


Pink Sweater Weather

by astramaxima (shotgunsinlace)



Category: Sonic the Hedgehog (2020)
Genre: Anal Sex, Boss/Employee Relationship, Bottom Agent Stone (Sonic the Hedgehog 2020), But like. Barely., Butt Plugs, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Lingerie, M/M, Oral Sex, Pet Names, Praise Kink, Top Dr. Eggman | Dr. Robotnik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:13:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29442432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shotgunsinlace/pseuds/astramaxima
Summary: When Stone asked Robotnik to dress up for the evening, he wasn't entirely honest about what said evening would entail. Sometimes, lacy lingerie and oversized sweaters can be just as powerful as a well-kept suit.
Relationships: Dr. Eggman | Dr. Robotnik/Agent Stone
Comments: 7
Kudos: 29





	Pink Sweater Weather

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Sonicversary! Exactly one year ago today I watched the Sonic movie and INSTANTLY fell in love with Stobotnik. To celebrate this momentous occasion, I offer you a completely self-indulgent fic.

“You know what I like?” Stone says, running his fingertips through the loose strands of Robotnik’s hair, down the freshly touched-up fade, until his index finger pauses to apply pressure at the base of his skull. “I like it when you’re nice to me.”

“And what prompts this change on such short notice?” Robotnik flinches at the touch—the back of his neck being as sensitive as it is—but doesn’t turn away from the wooden puzzle in his hands. It’s less about figuring out the correct order for the pieces, and more about fine-tuning the dexterity of his hands.

Standing behind him, Stone switches strategy and squeezes the Doctor’s shoulders, digging in his palms for an impromptu massage. “I wouldn’t call it a change of opinion. I’m just a complex and multifaceted man.”

“Aren’t we all.”

“Some more than others, but you’re a mark above the rest.”

Robotnik shifts with an approving hum, leaning back beyond his center of gravity so that his weight rests on his Agent. Stone is very careful to meet him, moving his hands from shoulders to around the column of his neck, where his nails scratch softly at the stubble. “Flattery, Stone? Really?”

“Honesty. You truly are amazing, Doctor.”

“If this is about your retirement fund—”

“An absolutely stunning gentleman.”

“—the answer is still no.”

“A tyrant, but I’m into it.”

Robotnik snorts, tilting his head up to finally get a look at him. Stone briefly tenses when the tell-tale twitch of his mustache alerts him to something catching his attention, but Stone stands his ground despite the nervous fluttering kicking off in his stomach.

“I’ve never seen you in anything other than earth tones,” Robotnik says, reaching back to pinch the pink sweater Stone chose for the evening. “A bold statement that doesn’t match my own color profile, but we can workshop it.”

“Trust me. No one other than you is ever going to see me in this.”

Robotnik continues to stare up at him, nearly quizzical. “You made me dress up to stay in? You _hooligan_.”

“I didn’t make you do anything. I simply requested you wear something nice tonight.”

“To stay in,” the Doctor reiterates, as if Stone were dense enough to miss the point of his argument. “I could be in pajamas rather than some stuffy suit. I’m wearing a _bowtie_.”

Stone places his hands flat against the lapels of Robotnik’s dinner jacket—which really doesn’t look much different from his usual getup—and skims them downward until he’s able to rest his chin on Robotnik’s shoulder. “You’ve only seen my sweater,” Stone says against his cheekbone, dropping a kiss there before stepping back.

He isn’t a self-conscious person. Stone is as steadfast as anyone who knows their worth, be it due to their skill mastery or work ethic. He knows he’s at least moderately attractive judging by the constant hounding of his colleagues. _Raw sex appeal isn’t enough to get you a free pass,_ Robotnik had once shouted inches away from his nose. It was that particular incident that triggered the avalanche which pinned the Doctor over his workbench, pants around his ankles.

This, however, is entirely new.

As Robotnik turns around to properly face him, Stone finds himself tugging the hem of the sweater down in an attempt at modesty. He fights against the instinct to lower his head in embarrassment. 

“Ah.”

“Ah?” Stone prompts.

“Fascinating. You never struck me as the type.”

“Guess we’re on the same wavelength.” The thought would have never occurred to him had Robotnik not been momentarily enthralled by the lace finish on a decorative handkerchief accidentally left behind by a foreign official. “Just doing some experimenting.”

The Doctor straightens up, knees parted and hands firmly over them as he takes on an air that is equal parts alien and intoxicating. For all of his perfected intimidation tactics, Robotnik isn’t exactly domineering in his personal life. He’s more prone to letting Stone take control behind closed doors. Seeing him like this, however, smartly dressed and posturing when Stone is barely wearing anything at all makes his cock stir with excitement.

“Come here.”

Stone obeys.

He stands right in front of the Doctor, the bottom of the pink sweater bunched up in his hands and held over his groin as he’s looked over with a lascivious glint. The command gloves land featherlight on the outside of his thighs, the white sheer spandex hardly providing any protection against the cool buttons on Robotnik’s palms. “Your legs are barely contained in these,” he murmurs, tracing the lace band at the top of the stockings. “Yet you’re swimming in that sweater.”

Stone risks freeing up one of his hands to tug the wide collar of the sweater down one of his shoulders. “Nothing’s ever unintentional.” He preens when Robotnik’s eyebrows arch up in interest, eyeing the innocuous white leather strap that has just been revealed.

Gloved hands pull on the garter belts and let them snap against skin, making Stone worry his bottom lip with sultry delight.

His bravado crawls its way back now that he is certain that Robotnik likes what he sees. “Why don’t you forget about that puzzle and play with me instead?”

“Oh ho ho, you saucy little minx.” Robotnik’s playful growl gets a laugh out of Stone. “What else are you hiding under there?” His hands crawl further up, under the oversized sweater without lifting it. Stone can feel him trace the edges of matching satin panties that barely contain him.

“I could offer you a peek.”

“Name your price.”

“A compliment.”

Robotnik arches an eyebrow but Stone doesn’t flinch despite the roaming touches that makes him blush harder. “Pink is an okay color.”

Stone uses his free hand to jab a finger at Robotnik’s forehead, pushing it back. “Try again.”

“Fine,” Robotnik says, swatting his hand away before grabbing his hips. “You’re a fine specimen to behold.”

“Now, say it with feeling.”

Robotnik rolls his eyes. “You requested a day off, I granted it for both of us. You asked me to dress up, I dressed up. I could literally be doing anything productive— _anything_ —but instead I’m sitting here, in your living room, praising your extraordinary physique. What more of a compliment can I possibly offer?”

Stone sways his hips, finally letting go of the sweater to cradle Robotnik’s face between his hands. “That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

A sniff. “Not as hard as other parts of my anatomy.”

Dropping all pretenses, Stone tips Robotnik’s head back to kiss him long and hard. Tongue on tongue, gloved hands pawing and kneading at Stone’s ass underneath the sweater, he marks off the stint as a huge success. Not only does he feel attractive and—all humbleness aside—sexy, but the Doctor seems to think so too. Double-wins are always welcome on the scoreboard.

Stone breaks away to teasingly hike up the front of his sweater, revealing the tiny bit of fabric that cradles only the base of his cock and leaves the rest of it exposed flush against his skin. Hooked to the satin panties is a delicate yet elaborate body harness, thin straps of white leather adorning him. He tries not to duck his head, to banish the sudden bashfulness at being a different kind of exposed, but the Doctor’s reaction makes him flush all the more.

Robotnik’s eyes widen, swimming in a concoction of lustful hunger as he palms himself over his pants, convulsively licking his lips. “An aesthetic wonder,” he says, finally standing up to tower over Stone. “Worthy of ravishing.”

“Doctor,” Stone can’t help but moan when Robotnik latches onto his neck, leaving a trail of nips and kisses along the downward slope to his shoulders, where he sucks a bruise to claim his ownership over his Agent.

“Tell me what you want.”

Stone holds onto him for dear life. “Suck me off.”

Robotnik brushes their noses together, sealing one more kiss to Stone’s mouth before going to his knees. “As you wish.”

Had he lacked even an ounce of control Stone is certain the words would’ve been enough to push him over the edge. A compliant Doctor is a rarity close to no one has ever witnessed, and his willingness to succumb to Stone’s desires is a heady power trip that hits sweeter than any stroke to the prostate ever could.

His half-laugh turns into a pleasured gasp when Robotnik slips under the sweater to kiss the flat plains of his stomach, licking along the strap that crosses his abdomen before taking that same tongue to Stone’s cockhead. He laps at the head, swirls around the tip, and Stone is overtaken by the whole new sensory adventure that is feeling without seeing. He is still trapped within the panties, Robotnik’s hands preoccupied with groping his thighs.

Stone wishes he was up against a wall or sitting on the couch or laying on the freshly cleaned rug because he can barely keep his balance. Spikes of pleasure when Robotnik presses his tongue to the underside of his cock has Stone rocking onto his socked toes, desperate to be taken into that hot mouth he adores. When it finally happens, Stone’s delighted hiss accompanies the tightening of his leg muscles, nearly folding in half as Robotnik sucks and pulls off with an audibly sloppy pop.

It doesn’t take long. With the absence of hands and the sounds of Robotnik’s messy desperation coming from beneath the sweater, grumbling his inability to properly take Stone into his mouth in this position, he finds himself dangerously close very quickly. Gloved fingers remain preoccupied with the garter belts and what little of the harness they can find, snapping them, gripping skin, slurping obscenely.

Stone’s hands scramble to hike up the sweater when the telltale coil becomes glowing hot, chest constricting, cock throbbing with eminent release. “I’m—Doctor—oh, _fuck_.”

He’s half out of his mind as he orgasms, only partially aware that Robotnik has pulled off him midway through, successfully managing to get streaks of ejaculate on his jacket. Stone stares at him through the haze, shivering when Robotnik opens his mouth to show that he’s swallowed whatever he successfully shot onto his tongue and down his throat.

“Oh, my god,” Stone breathes out, legs now jelly as he continues to stand and stare at the man kneeling before him. “Your jacket,” he murmurs, reaching for the lapel before Robotnik intercepts him.

Stone is always awed by the Doctor’s rare demonstrations of sheer strength. There is tactical advantage to not revealing one’s entire hand, and Robotnik’s lanky frame is anything but flimsy to those who know him well enough. Sleek muscles hidden beneath strategically tailored clothing are easy to forget, but it’s moments like these, when Robotnik effortlessly picks Stone up and carries him to the couch, legs wrapped around the Doctor’s waist, that Stone shivers with drunken want.

Carefully, he’s lowered onto the cushions with Robotnik slotted between his legs, rubbing up against his spent dick and making Stone wince. “Laundry for laundry,” Robotnik says, rucking up the sweater to properly look at him.

Even through the layers of post-orgasmic warmth, Stone’s hairs stand on end as he watches Robotnik remove his command gloves, dropping them on the coffee table. The sight is just as erotic—if not more so—as watching the man undress. Robotnik is, quite literally, shedding his control. He removes his barriers to touch him skin to skin, indulging in sweaty and frantic human contact.

Stone doesn’t know what to call any of this, but he does know this is the highest compliment Robotnik could ever offer him.

Warm hands roam the expanse of Stone’s body, tracing lines and squeezing muscle, caressing the fabric of his stockings, and rubbing his thumb along the lace edges. “Stunning,” Robotnik says, his tongue sharp and ruthless. “So rarely can humans embody any semblance of true beauty.” He pushes the sweater up further, swooping down to lick a now exposed nipple. “Rarer yet is the intersection of physical appeal and mental prowess, coupled with skill and discipline to be envious of.”

 _Oh, god._ “I… please.” Stone tries to hide behind a sleeve but Robotnik is quicker, pinning his arm to the couch. 

“You weren’t this shy a minute ago. You asked for it.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to literally—”

“No, no, I think I do. You see, it’s not very often that something can get me _going_ like this, as you well know.” Stone turns his face away, but Robotnik brings it back, mouthing hotly at his beard. “You turn me on, Agent Stone. It’s one thing to have you strutting around the lab in a suit that hugs you in all the right places, but this? It’s downright salacious. Ob—scene. _Hot. As Fuck_.” He accentuates every word with a tap of the fingers down Stone’s chest, stopping at the leather that intersects it. “And you wanna know what else?”

Stone is speechless. Breathless. Blissed so far out of his mind all he can do is nod his head.

Robotnik leans down to whisper in his ear. “I felt that stopper you buried nice and deep. Did you do that for me? _Easy_ access?”

“Doctor,” is all he can say, overwhelmed by the rich scent and the heat that radiates off the man in lulling waves.

“I will take _excruciatingly_ good care of you, dumpling.” The beat between one breath and the next is ruined by Stone’s bark of laughter. “What? No? Huh. My calculations said you would be into pet names and I ran those numbers twice.”

“No no no, it’s fine, it’s fine,” Stone says around a grin, bringing Robotnik down for a quick kiss, “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“Ah, you weren’t ready for me to drop the bomb.”

“More like I wasn’t ready to hear you use the word _dumpling_ in this context. I don’t think I would have ever been ready to hear you use that word in this context.”

“Sweetheart. Baby. Honey bunches of oats. Sugar lips. Strike that last one, I hate it.”

“And not the other ones?”

“Ha! Baby boy,” Robotnik says, almost purrs, words curling on his tongue as villainously as his mustache. “That one comes with a matching title.”

Stone bites his bottom lip, reaching behind him for the discreet bottle of lubricant he placed there earlier that evening. When he fails to find it, he turns over onto his stomach, extending his arm to rummage blindly through the drawer. “I don’t think I could call you _daddy_ and keep a straight face.” He finds the bottle and Robotnik snatches it out of his hands, keeping him pinned on his belly.

“Since you’re going to be rude about it, I should just take you like this.”

Although he cannot see behind him, Stone can hear the lowering of a zipper perfectly fine. He grabs the smallest of the pillows and holds onto it, wiggling his hips at an attempt to be inviting as the sound of the bottle uncapping followed by a sigh and a hum tells him all he needs to know. “You can take me however you want, Doctor. Should I get on my knees?” Robotnik makes a sound similar to that of a man dying and Stone takes it as a yes.

One leg braced on the floor and the one on the couch bent at the knee, the position isn’t entirely comfortable, but it gets the job done. Any real desire to move this to a more stable surface is silenced when Robotnik grabs the stopper and pulls it just enough so that the widest diameter of the plug spreads him. 

“Valiant enough for a second orgasm?” The Doctor coos against Stone’s exposed shoulder, leaving behind a bite before mercilessly pulling the plug all the way out.

Stone buries his face in the pillow, gut warm and cock throbbing with both interest and overstimulation. “Do it.”

“C’mon, Stone. You’re going to have to be more specific than that.”

“Sir—”

“ _Sir_?”

Slick fingers enter him, and Stone arches his back when Robotnik hons in on his prostate like a locked-on missile. “Fuck, _fuck_ , right there.” Despite his lack of a proper response, Stone rocks back into Robotnik’s fingers. “More, please, I need more.”

“More what, hm?” His fingers slip out, only the pad of the index finger barely applies any pressure to the ring of muscle. “I’m a genius, not a psychic.”

“ _Christ_ , just fuck me already!” If questioned, Stone would deny sobbing out the plea. Luckily for him, Robotnik isn’t known for his patience.

Held by the hips, he’s maneuvered onto the Doctor’s cock.

No hesitation, just the mild resistance of friction.

He’s only a tad bigger than the sole buttplug Stone owns, and the difference makes for a delicious stretch and burn that lights a fire under every pleasure sensor in Stone’s brain. For all his talk about wanting Robotnik to be nice to him, it’s the roughness that gets him off the hardest, the Doctor’s not-quite-complete grasp of what sensory outputs can be deemed adequate. There’s a reason why Stone is the one who predominantly takes charge when it comes to sex.

That, and because Robotnik’s stamina is still a work in progress.

Stone clenches around him once he’s sunk all the way in, Robotnik panting against his shoulder like he’s run a 4K and he’s on his last legs. He mutters nonsensical things into Stone’s ear, hips stuttering quick and rough as Stone meets him halfway, drowning in his own quieter moans and wrecked gasps. A hand lands loudly against Stone’s thigh and he definitely does not groan with a sudden desire for more of that, but he does retaliate by rocking back to meet Robotnik’s now frantic thrusting with more enthusiasm.

It lasts about as long as Stone expects it, Robotnik’s vicious “you were made for me” making his body melt into the couch in sheer euphoria. But not even that lasts long when the Doctor pulls out and without warning, unceremoniously flips Stone onto his back again. Like this, Stone is able to drape a leg on Robotnik’s shoulder, and judging by the glint in his eyes, that is exactly what he wanted.

The Doctor mouths at Stone’s calf, his stubble catching on the fabric of the stocking as he strokes his cock to completion, body rigid and moaning desperately as thick globs of spunk dribble onto Stone’s half-hard cock, further ruining his panties. 

Clearly satisfied with himself, Robotnik reaches to work his cum into the white satin.

Neither immediately moves, precariously propped up against each other as the world realigns itself once more; their bodies cooling.

“These cost me a small fortune,” Stone complains, inspecting the tear on the stocking still propped on Robotnik’s shoulder. His leg is eventually brought down to rest on the couch. “They’ll disintegrate if I throw them in the wash.”

Robotnik fixes him with flinty glare. “Insinuating _I_ ruined them when it was _you_ who decided to seduce me?”

Unwilling to move and certain he will be ready to go again in no time, Stone stretches on the couch and tugs the sweater back down over himself. “Come give me a kiss, Doctor.”

“Bossy.” But Robotnik does so, first discarding his jacket and laying on top of his Agent, his arms cradling him. “You should consider wearing these to work on a potential slow day.”

Stone snorts, guiding Robotnik’s head to rest over his chest, softly combing his hair. “As nice as it may look, lingerie isn’t exactly comfortable enough to be considered practical for everyday use. Especially when it isn’t designed for people with my dimensions.”

“Just the stockings, then.”

“My shoes will slip right off.”

“You exist solely to antagonize me.”

“That’s my second priority,” Stone says, leaning up to drop a kiss onto his crown. “I could wear the sweater on Casual Friday if you really like it, though.”

Robotnik hums thoughtfully, pinching the rich fabric between thumb and forefinger. “Others might get ideas. Ideas lead to blood. And blood leads to nosy officials sticking their noses in my lab because someone thought it smart to leer at what’s mine.”

Stone smiles, delighted by both the mental image and the possessiveness that always shines through in the aftermath of sex. “Of course, Doctor. In that case, I’m for your eyes only.”

**Author's Note:**

> shout-out to himi for helping me out with the title.
> 
> Happy Valentines' Day, everyone! ♡


End file.
